


The Hired Bride

by Innwich



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Bondage, Feminization, Infidelity, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 11:45:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2771795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innwich/pseuds/Innwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waylon was paid to put on a wedding dress and indulge a sick man’s fantasies, but he would like to think he wasn’t a whore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hired Bride

Waylon rolled onto his back, and winced at the dull pain that shot through his body. There had been a reason why he’d been napping on his side. His ass was sore and aching. The wedding dress stuck wetly to his skin. Waylon rubbed at the rope burns around his wrists and calves, trying to make them sting less. At least Eddie had untied him before they’d passed out.

Thank God for small mercies.

A loud snore prompted Waylon to glance wearily at the other side of the bed.

Eddie was sound asleep and snoring away, with his mouth open and his clothes a crumpled heap on the floor. The red puckered scars on his face looked less harsh in the dim light. Eddie seemed almost harmless.

Waylon couldn’t help wondering about his smartphone and its tiny camera.

It wasn’t the first time Waylon thought about recording one of their sessions and using it for blackmail. But then again, they both knew Waylon had a wife and two kids at home. If the tables were turned, Waylon would rather kill himself if Eddie took videos of what they were doing and tried to blackmail him with it.

It wasn’t like Eddie paid cheap for his services.

“Guess I should be glad you never think of it,” Waylon said to Eddie. Not like the guy could hear him. “‘Cause you’re classy like that, right?”

_“Fucking whore. Slut.”_

“A real class-A act,” Waylon said.

Eddie snored and didn’t answer him, so Waylon went to clean up himself in the bathroom.

In the shower, Waylon eased off the tape that kept his dick stuck on his thigh and out of the way. He hissed as the tape peeled off from his skin, but it didn’t hurt too bad; he’d shaved-

_“Like a baby’s bottom.”_

-and the hot water was loosening the tape. If it hadn’t been for Eddie, Waylon could have gone his whole without having tapes or scissors near his sensitive parts.

Waylon cleaned out his ass.

_“I’ll fill you up so good.”_

He scrubbed hard at his belly, to wash off the cum from where Eddie had rubbed it all over his skin.

_“You’ll be a perfect mother for our children.”_

Waylon wanted to pick his ears until the words were scooped out of his brain. He remembered saying that to Lisa when they’d had their boys. It’d been a miracle to hold his boys in his arms.

He stayed under the shower until the hot water ran out and his skin turned a blistering shade of red. Eddie would have to get his shower somewhere else, and somehow Waylon couldn’t find it in himself to feel sorry for it.

Limping out of the shower, Waylon pulled on his jeans and shirt, because like hell he was going to take the assortment of wedding dress, veil, garter, stockings, bra, panties and pads with him. He had a hard enough time hiding the rope burns from Lisa and the kids.

Jesus Christ. How was this his life?

Waylon took the fat wad of money that Eddie had left for him on the coffee table before the start of the session, and stuffed it into his jeans pocket. It was the pocket where he’d put his wedding ring. His real one, not the platinum ring that Eddie made him wear. The fake ring was sitting on the motel bed, where it belonged.

“Leaving so soon?” Eddie said.

Waylon tensed. He fought the instinct to flee from the room, and forced a smile on his face.

Eddie was a thick line of muscles. He wasn’t hard, but he was palming himself down there. Waylon knew it wouldn’t take him long to get there. Waylon shoved the money deep into his pocket and edged closer to the door, but Eddie didn’t move from the bed.

“You paid for three hours. You got your three hours,” Waylon said.

“Won’t you consider? The night is young,” Eddie said.

“I don’t need the money.”

Eddie sighed, and slackened his grasp on his dick. “Maybe next time then. I’ll wait for your call.”

“I’ll get back my job. This arrangement will end someday,” Waylon said, gripping the money in his jeans. “I can promise you that.”

Eddie stared at him, and Waylon backed the fuck up until his back hit the door, despite the good ten feet between them. He didn’t trust Eddie not to lunge for him and choke the air out of him. There was never any pattern to Eddie’s mood swings. Waylon didn’t know why had to taunt the guy. Maybe it was that fucking entitled look that Eddie was wearing, like he was a cat that got the cream and the canary.

Waylon wasn’t a fucking kept boy.

But then Eddie smiled. It stretched the scars his face, winding them tight and twisting them into shadowed holes that Waylon could trip over. “And who would hire a disgraced software engineer that betrayed his former employer?”

Waylon dug his fingernails into his palms, but Eddie had closed his eyes again, drifting back to sleep. Eddie didn’t care that he was still standing in the room. Well, fuck Eddie. Waylon could bash in Eddie’s head right now and loot the cash from his wallet. He could do it. He would probably be doing the world a favor by ridding it of Eddie.

But where would that leave Waylon and Lisa and the boys when the power company cut them off again? God, it was going to be winter soon. Then it would be Christmas. Then it would be time for Waylon to cough up money to pay the boys’ school and his debts and his insurances. Sometimes, when he stared at the stack of bills on the coffee table at home, it felt like life had tied a noose around his neck. The noose tightened with each passing day, until he gathered his wits and picked up the phone.

_“You’ve fucked up. You’ve fucked up bad.”_

And that voice didn’t sound like Eddie at all; it sounded like Waylon himself.

Eddie murmured, “I’ll see you around, darling.”


End file.
